The Flower and the Angel
by Silver Sailor Ganymede
Summary: Pansy and Draco's story. Told in 50 vignettes/drabbles.
1. Festival

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

**_(A.N: For _Vera Rozalsky. _You said you wanted to see the whole of Pansy and Draco's story, so here it is)_**

The Flower and the Angel  
By Silver Sailor Ganymede

I. Festival

They meet at a party when they are five years old. They are celebrating Yule, and it is the first time that her parents have decided that she is old enough to come with them – after all, she is five years old now and knows better than to throw a tantrum in front of her mother. All she has to do is smile and look pretty and everyone will adore her.

Pansy is annoyed when she realises that she isn't the centre of attention. There is a boy there who her mother has said is the same age as her, and everyone is paying much more attention to him than to her. She is a striking child, with black hair and eyes like jet, and everyone always comments on how pretty she is, but tonight everyone is fussing over him. Pansy hasn't seen him yet, but she thinks he is probably just as ugly and boring as boys always are, so why are they fussing over him rather than her?

That's when Pansy sees the angel for the first time. He has just escaped from Cecilia Macmillan's grasp, but he does not look at all annoyed. His hair is the whitest that Pansy has ever seen on someone so young, but even though it's white it doesn't make him look old. He's very, very pale as well, and even his eyes don't have any colour. Yes, he is practically shining because he is so pale. That's when Pansy realises she's looking at an angel.

"You're an angel," she whispers when he comes nearer to her.

He wrinkles his nose in annoyance. "I am not. You sound like an old lady, calling me an angel like that."

Pansy blushes.

"What's your name, anyway?" he asks.

"Pansy Parkinson," she replies.

He sighs. "Why do girls like flowers so much that they name their children after them?"

"I don't know. What's your name?"

"Draco Malfoy," he replies. The pompous air he adopts seems utterly out of place in one so young, but Pansy herself is too young to notice this. Instead she is impressed, thinking to herself just how lucky she is to have spoken to someone so wonderful.

When she looks up again Draco is gone, lost in the crowds of people in the room. Her angel has vanished and she wants to cry because she doesn't know if she'll ever see him again.


	2. Scholar

II. Scholar

"You don't do it like that, Pansy. You do it like _this_."

Draco sounds exasperated. He obviously thinks Pansy is stupid, but Pansy doesn't mind; compared to Draco everyone is stupid. He has stolen one of his mother's spare wands and has been making a feather fly round the room for the past five minutes. He makes it look easy but Pansy just can't get the hang of it.

"Show me again," she says, delighting in being able to see him cast magic. She can't wait until they get to Hogwarts, where she'll be able to see his magical prowess every day without the risk of their being caught and told off for practicing. No,there it will be quite the opposite; their training will be encouraged. She knows they'll see each other all the time, because of course they'll both be Slytherins. They will be Slytherins, and so will Nott and Crabbe and Goyle and Parvati and Padma and Daphne and Susan. They will all be Slytherins because they are the best, and only the best end up in Slytherin.

"You're still not getting it, Pansy," Draco whines. He looks very annoyed and Pansy feels tears in her eyes. Only the best end up in Slytherin, and if she can't even cast a simple spell then she obviously isn't 'the best', is she? She makes up her mind to practice magic every day until she gets to Hogwarts; she couldn't bear to be separated from Draco.


	3. Figure

III. Figure

They have started school now and Draco is already becoming a fine figure of a gentleman. He has proved himself to be talented at both magic and Quidditch, though that mudblood Granger and that show-off Potter have beaten him at both because the headmaster is a Gryffindor and therefore horribly biased towards his own house. It's enough to make Pansy feel ill.

Draco is shaping up to be a fine figure of a man. He is handsome and well mannered, though those louts Zabini and Nott snigger and sneer and make fun of him whenever they can, but that is just because they've both inherited insanity from their parents. Zabini's mother is a gold-digger and a murderer and Nott's father is an ancient alcoholic, so how can either of them be expected to appreciate how wonderful her angel is?

Bulstrode and Davis sneer too, only they are not so obvious about it as Nott and Zabini. Pansy doesn't even waste her time listen to Bulstrode's grunts and Davis' drawls; they are half-bloods, so the muggle pollution of their blood has obviously addled their brains as well as their looks. They are only jealous of her because the two of them are too hideous to ever warrant Draco's attention.

Yes, Draco is indeed shaping up to be a fine figure of a gentleman. The only problem for Pansy is that he still thinks too much like a boy. She is thirteen now and he is twelve, so isn't it about time for him to profess his undying love for her? Their grandparents were married at far younger ages than that after all.


	4. Modern

IV. Modern

"Salazar's blood, Pansy, will you stop whining?"

Pansy is more than a little annoyed by the suggestion that she has been whining. She obviously isn't whining; she's just stating an obvious and very painful fact, the fact that Draco doesn't seem to realise she exists.

The irritation in Daphne's eyes tells her otherwise. Daphne doesn't often get annoyed, but when she does, there is hell to pay.

"But Draco doesn't know I exist," Pansy sighs. "Daphne, help me, please. What can I do to make him realise I like him?"

Daphne rolls her eyes. "This isn't the nineteenth century, Pansy. A modern witch would just have asked him out by now."

Pansy puffs up with indignation at the thought. "Well maybe I don't want to be a 'modern witch', especially not if it means behaving like some common hussy. Tradition says he has to make the first move, not me, and I'll be damned if I go against tradition."

Daphne looks torn between screaming and laughing. Instead she just groans.

"You carry on being a slave to tradition then. But I hope you don't mind if I leave you to it; I've got actual work to be getting on with."

She exits the room and Pansy buries her head in her pillow, still sulking. At this rate she is going to be waiting for Draco until the end of time.


	5. Ease

V. Ease

Draco keeps saying that he can manage but Pansy knows he is lying. He has been hurt so badly that his arm is still in a sling even after Madam Pomfrey had apparently fixed it – so either the mediwitch is going senile in her old age and forgetting basic healing spells or Draco has been hurt far more badly than he wants to admit. It's just like Draco to be brave and deny that he is at all hurt, but she's going to help him whether he wants her to or not.

"Draco, are you sure you can manage?" she asks again.

He smiles at her (that same, sweet smile that he has always reserved only for her and which makes her heart skip a beat every time she sees it).

"Yes, Pansy. I'm sure I'll be able to manage to eat dinner on my own."

"But that filthy Hippogriff hurt you so badly!" Pansy cries, tears coming to her eyes as she thinks about how poor, brave Draco was savaged by the half-breed's filthy pet. "Please, Draco. Just let me help you."

Out of the corner of his eye, Pansy cansee Blaise Zabini and Millicent Bulstrode choking with laughter. She sneers at them with as much contempt as she can muster. How dare they laugh at Draco for being brave and her for trying to help him? She knows in her heart that they are just jealous because Draco is the only one she would ever deign to help.


	6. Eternal

VI. Eternal

They had faced the boggart nearly a week ago, but Pansy still cannot get the images out of her head. She had hated having to face her own worst fear, but what makes it even worse is that everyone else now knows it, too, and someone is bound to use it against her. She saw herself ruined, penniless and without even her beauty left – and now that he has seen that, she is sure Draco will never look twice at her again.

She stifles the tears that are welling in her eyes. She hates Professor Lupin for what he put her through, hates him. Doesn't he realise that with the one, stupid lesson he has ruined her entire future?

"Wouldn't it be wonderful if we could come up with a charm that preserved our beauty?" Pansy says with a sigh, more to herself than anyone else.

Daphne frowns at her. "There are already spells that do that."

"No, Daphne, I mean forever." Pansy knows she looks as upset as she feels, but Daphne of all people isn't going to remark on that. Daphne is just as afraid of failure as Pansy, so she isn't going to be stupid enough to say anything. "If I could be eternally beautiful then maybe Draco would always love me."

"Forget about him," Daphne says. "I love you anyway." She smiles, but Pansy does not smile back. Even Daphne doesn't realise that her future lies in ruins.


	7. Context

VII. Context

Daphne is staring at her, aghast, but Pansy can't for the life of her understand why.

"Why so shocked?" Pansy asks. "Isn't it obvious he likes me?"

"I hate to say it, Pansy, but you're being totally ridiculous," Daphne sighs. She looks as though she is trying her best not to laugh, which only makes Pansy angrier.

"He likes me, I know he does!" she shouts, suddenly furious at Daphne for giggling like that.

"You've just taken his stupid remarks totally out of context, Pansy," Daphne says. She is laughing outright now.

"But he said my writing was pretty," Pansy huffs. "Boys only say that anything about a girl is pretty when they like them."

Daphne groans. "He only said that because he knew you'd lend him your homework if he did."

Pansy suddenly feels very sorry for Daphne. How can her friend be such a cynic at such a young age?


	8. Key

VIII. Key

Pansy knows she has to find the key to Draco's heart. She has tried everything she can think of, but so far none of it has worked.

She writes his History of Magic essays for him when he asks, as she knows he has better things to do with his time. It doesn't matter if she never gets her own work done.

She always goes to his Quidditch matches and cheers for him, and she knows that he would never have lost a match had the Gyrffindors not been such terrible cheaters. It's unimportant that she doesn't like Quidditch; watching Draco more than makes up for that.

She gives him her share of dessert at dinner. She knows he has a sweet tooth and he always smiles at her when she gives him an extra piece of cake or chocolate. It's not like she should be eating sweets anyway (she needs to watch her figure), and seeing Draco smile is worth much more than a slice of cake.

Pansy has tried everything she can think of to make Draco happy, but he just takes it in his stride like everything she's doing for him is his due anyway. She supposes that's true, but it would be nice if he acknowledged it for once. She knows she will find the key to his heart one day: she just hopes she can wait that long.


	9. Drag

IX. Drag

The have been in Madam Malkin's for the past two hours and Pansy still hasn't found a decent set of dress robes.

"Why have you dragged me shopping with you anyway?" Daphne grumbles, starting to pick her acid green nail polish off her nails like she always does when extremely bored.

"I thought you liked shopping," Pansy mutters sulkily as she pulls yet another set of dress robes of their hook. No. Those are too dark a shade; they wouldn't work. She looks for another.

"Normally I do, but not when it involves you trying to impress that idiot."

It takes Pansy a second to realise what Daphne has said, but when she does she turns are glares daggers at her.

"Draco is not an idiot!" she snaps.

"Yes he is," Daphne retorts. "He's a boy and therefore an idiot. At least he is so far as clothes are concerned; Blaise is the only boy I know who pays any attention to how girls dress."

"That's only because he dresses like a girl anyway," Pansy mutters acidly. She picks up some bright pink robes. "What do you think of these."

"They'll make you look like a child."


	10. Marry

X. Marry

Pansy's cousin is getting married. She knows she should be happy for her, but all she can feel is sadness. Her cousin is getting married and the boy Pansy's in love with still hasn't so much as looked at her.

"What are you sulking about, Parkinson?" Tracey Davis is in the dormitory as well, a bored expression on her face and a History of Magic textbook the size of a tombstone balanced on her knees.

"It's none of your business, Davis," Pansy snarls. "And for your information I am not sulking!"

"Sure, and the Pope's not a Catholic," Tracey drawls. Pansy has no idea what she means, but she doesn't want to show that so she just glares even harder at the other girl.

"Shut up, Davis."

"Did I say anything?" Tracey asks. "Really, Parkinson, your sulky manner is doing you no favours."

"I'm not sulking!" Pansy shrieks. "It's just that my cousin's getting married."

"Ah, and Malfoy's still acting like a ponce, is that it?" she yawns, looking thoroughly uninterested. "Get over it, Parkinson. You're only fourteen."

"My cousin's only sixteen," Pansy replies.

Tracey looks up then, shocked. Pansy can't understand why.

"Fucking stupid pureblood chauvinists," Tracey mutters into her book. She looks like she's just swallowed five whole acid pops in a row.

Pansy sneers at her. Who is Tracey Davis to think she knows anything about life?


	11. Mad

XI. Mad

It's the end of the school year. They'll be heading back home tomorrow. The year has gone too quickly; Pansy feels like it has been a complete and utter waste. Despite all her efforts, Draco seems no closer to her than he was before. It's enough to make her heart break.

She sits by the lake and stares at the mountains, ever so glad that she'll be home again soon, away from the wild Scottish countryside and back among civilisation, back in society where she belongs.

"What's up with you, Pansy? Going to miss Hogwarts?"

Pansy supposes she shouldn't be surprised that Daphne has found her by the lake. Daphne is very good at finding people, especially when the person in question really doesn't want to be found.

"No. Draco," Pansy mumbles. She doesn't need to say anything else.

"I think you're completely mad, Pansy," Daphne sighs, shaking her head in blatant exasperation. "You're fourteen years old and already acting like a complete idiot over a boy. You know they're all useless until they hit seventeen."

"You would think that, Daphne," Pansy says with a snarl. She knows exactly what Daphne has been getting up to when they've been at home – but then again Daphne has no hope of marrying someone her own age. Either she'll be married off in an alliance to an older man or she'll have to end up a spinster, so it's better that she gets used to them now, isn't it?

"You, Pansy Parkinson, are a vicious little girl," Daphne says at last. "I want nothing to do with you until you've grown up a bit."

She storms off and Pansy smiles because she knows she is right. Daphne is just jealous because she, a Greengrass, will never warrant the attention of someone so powerful as Draco. She will have to get used to her old men or be on her own for the rest of her life. She'll apologise to Pansy soon… won't she?

Suddenly Pansy feels very alone indeed.


	12. Incident

XII. Incident

Pansy knows that Draco has said he doesn't want any visitors right now, but surely she doesn't count in that. Surely he'll make an exception for her; after all, they've known each other since they were five years old, so obviously he won't mind her coming up to the hospital wing to check that he's alright.

She finds him lying in a bed, his face impossibly flushed and black bruises all over him that Madam Pomfrey hasn't yet been able to get rid of. The bruises look even darker against the pure white of the room, and it's almost enough to make Pansy cry, seeing Draco lying there like that. How can he look so weak? This is Draco Malfoy; he should never have to look weak in his life!

Crabbe and Goyle's eyes flash threateningly when they see her, but then they realise who she is and their expressions soften. Draco smiles at her – a real smile that makes her heart skip a beat.

"I've brought you some chocolate cake," Pansy says. "They had it at dinner tonight and I knew you'd probably like some."

Crabbe eyes it greedily. She glares at him as she hands the cake to Draco, who is still smiling.

"You're lovely, Pansy, you know that?" he drawls. She feels her face go scarlet. "No, you really are. People don't appreciate you enough."

"Th… thank you, Draco," she mumbles to her feet, trying to hide her embarrassment.

"You know what, I don't appreciate you enough," he carries on. "Come with me on the next Hogsmeade weekend and I'll show you just how much I appreciate you."

She realises that he's asking her out. The moment she's been waiting for since she first saw him when they were five years old has finally arrived. She feels dizzy, like she's about to collapse. She wants to kiss Draco then and there but she knows it wouldn't be the right thing to do. She wants her first kiss to be romantic and not in front of Crabbe and Goyle.

"Y… yes, Draco. I'll go out with you. Yes," she squeals, feeling herself turn and even deeper shade of scarlet.

Draco smiles again and starts to eat the cake, ignoring the jealous looks Crabbe is shooting him as he does so.


	13. Touch

XIII. Touch

Pansy realises that she's never been so close to someone in her life as she now is with Draco. He lets her cling onto his arm in the corridor and she'll curl up beside him in the common room in the evening and run her fingers through his hair and kiss him regardless of who's watching. Draco's hair is the most beautiful she has ever seen in her life; it's like fine silk, so light and soft that it could easily be made from spun sunlight.

Draco's eyes dance with laughter as she tells him just how wonderful he is. He says he knows (how could he not?) and he's flattered she thinks so, too (how could she not?)

The slightest touch of his hand is enough to make her blush. The sound of his voice as he whispers to her is enough to make her heart stop. She feels dizzy and elated in his presence and is happier than she had ever thought possible. She has everything she has ever wanted, and she is never going to lose him. Never.


	14. Harmed

XIV. Harmed

Draco twitches slightly and opens his eyes. Pansy feels her heart skip a beat. He is alive. He will be alright now.

He sits up and Pansy throws her arms around him and starts sobbing into his shoulder. He smells of rain and blood and that cologne he insists on covering himself in even before a Quidditch match. She can hear his heart beating in his chest. She had thought for a moment that the bludger had killed him: it had almost been enough to kill her as well, but he is here with her and he is alive. He is alive.

"Oh Draco," she shrieks out, digging her fingers into the folds of his robes and refusing to let go. "I was so worried! We all thought you weren't going to wake up! I… I…"

"Alright, Parkinson, that's enough," Marcus Flint grunts, dragging Pansy roughly away from her Draco and shoving her in the direction of the Slytherin team's Beaters. "Bole, Derrick, get her out of here. We can't have our Seeker getting any more injured."

How dare Flint take her Draco away from her? How dare he? She is infuriated and wants to hex him, but she sees the exhaustion in Draco's eyes and decides that perhaps she had better leave him to rest. She lets Bole and Derrick lead her out of the room, still looking as though she has seen Draco come back from the dead.


	15. Joking

XV. Joking

Pansy wishes Blaise Zabini wouldn't smirk. She is waiting up for Draco to get back from wherever he's gone – he went for a walk earlier that evening and he still hasn't returned, which is making her very nervous. And Blaise is there too, reclining on the sofa with a bored look on his face and a feline glimmer in his eyes.

"You shouldn't worry about Draco, you know," Blaise drawls. "He's probably just disappeared somewhere to fuck a Ravenclaw or something."

"Don't say such horrid things, Zabini!" Pansy snarls. "Draco wouldn't do that. Ravenclaw indeed…"

"He's a man. We do things like that."

"No, Zabini, _you _do," Pansy replies icily. "My Draco is nothing like you. He actually has manners."

"You have no sense of humour," Blaise yawns. "I'm only joking."

"No you're not!" Pansy shrieked.

"If you don't think I'm joking then you obviously think I'm telling the truth," Blaise replies and Pansy feels the blood run out of her face. Her Draco has gone off with someone else?

"Stop making such stupid jokes!" she finds herself shrieking, all her nervousness brought to the surface by Blaise's idiotic attitude. "Just because you're in love with the whole world, that doesn't mean Draco is. He loves me. Me!"

"No offence, Pansy, but who would want you when he has the whole world at his fingertips?" Blaise drawls.

Pansy has never felt so mortified in her life. She collapses back onto the chair and starts to cry, not caring that this is exactly what Blaise wants. Yes, who would ever want her when he could have the whole world?


	16. Own

XVI. Own

His grin is feral and cold, the kind of look a cat would wear when playing with a helpless bird, but she does not realise this. To her his expression is not one of smugness but delight; to her he is an angel, and angels do not taunt or torture.

"I love you, Draco," she whispers, the words passing her lips before she realises what she is saying.

"You'd better, Pansy," he replies, laughing. To her his eyes have lit up in delight, but really he is not laughing with her but at her, and the delight is really astonishment at her stupidity. "I own you after all."

She giggles, thinking he is joking. It has to be a joke, because an angel like Draco would never say anything in a cruel manner and mean it. She does not realise that her angel is really just a spoiled little boy.


	17. Live

XVII. Live

Pansy doesn't know why she's crying this time. It's not like there's anything wrong between them – Draco is being perfectly lovely to her as always, so she's got no reason to be acting like this. There's obviously something wrong with her. Yes, that must be it, there's something wrong with her.

The curtains open and Daphne crawls onto her bed. Evidently Daphne has heard her crying again; her silencing charms are nowhere near as good as they need to be.

Daphne doesn't say anything for a while, just stares at Pansy and shakes her head. When she speaks it isn't to deliver the usual condolences that Pansy has become used to.

"How can you live like this?" she whispers.

"Like what?" Pansy asks.

"Crying all the time like your heart's about to break."

Pansy doesn't know why this affects her so badly, but it does. Her breath catches in her throat as she starts sobbing outright, grabbing hold of Daphne and clinging on tightly to her. It feels like her heart is breaking, it really does, but how can her heart be breaking when she has everything she ever wanted?


	18. Drank

XVIII. Drank

Pansy knows that firewhisky isn't the answer to her problems, but for now it's a good temporary solution. It's like imbibing liquid courage, and it's almost, almost enough to convince her that nothing will ever go wrong with Draco again.

He had been drinking firewhisky the last time he kissed her – really kissed her with no encouragement from her. Some seventh years had brought back large quantities of the stuff from Hogsmeade, and of course Draco (along with Blaise Zabini and Vincent Crabbe) had decided to drink a lot of it. Gregory Goyle had drank half a glass and then stopped, claiming not to like it, whereas Theodore Nott had refused point blank to touch it.

Draco had been drinking though. Pansy doesn't think he was drunk at the time, but he was a lot happier than she had seen him in the long time. He had taken her in his arms and kissed her there and then, and though the alcohol had burnt her lips and the chatter of other people in the background had been enough to make her feel rather dizzy and embarrassed, Pansy thinks it was wonderful because Draco had kissed her differently than he usually did, kissed her as though he really loved her as much as she did him.

Pansy doesn't drink in order to forget. She drinks in order to remember, and because she hopes that one day Draco will kiss her like that again.


	19. Rectified

XIX. Rectified

Pansy doesn't know what she's done wrong. She's obviously done something wrong, though, because if she hadn't done anything then Draco wouldn't be annoyed with her. It must be her that's in the wrong because Draco is never wrong. He hasn't spoken to her for two days so she can't even get him to tell her what she's done. He won't tell her what she's done wrong and it's slowly killing her.

She had asked Daphne what she'd done, but Daphne had been no help at all. She'd just told Pansy that Draco was a moody little brat who honestly wasn't mature enough to be looking after himself, let alone someone else. Daphne had said that Pansy had done nothing and that Draco was simply being an idiot because of the power trip it gave him, which just couldn't be right. Pansy thinks Daphne is the one who's wrong. Daphne is a cynic. Draco would never hurt her on purpose because Draco is an angel and he just wouldn't do that.

Pansy doesn't know what she's done wrong, but whatever it is she's going to rectify the situation.


	20. Dance

XX. Dance

Pansy is having more fun at the Yule Ball than she has had in months.

It took her an awfully long time to get ready, but it was definitely worth the effort. She bought brand new dress robes for the occasion – bright pink ones that Draco says make her look even more beautiful than usual. Daphne had said that the colour was horrific, but frankly Pansy is sure that Daphne is only jealous that she'll never be able to wear pink without looking like an idiot.

Pansy tears her gaze away from Draco (who looks wonderful in his traditional black dress robes; he is quite possibly the only man striking enough to wear such plain clothes and still look fantastic) and searches for Daphne. She sees Daphne standing with her older cousin and a group of his friends from Beauxbatons. She feels a spark of Schadenfreude when she sees that Daphne looks bored out of her mind; Daphne may have insulted her robes, but Pansy is having a far better night than Daphne could ever hope for.

Pansy grabs Draco's hands and drags him towards the dance-floor. They were going to dance together for the rest of the night, she decided, hideous muggle-inspired music in the background or not.


	21. Still

XXI. Still

The night is still and calm. Pansy sits under a tree in the grounds, knowing that no one is going to come looking for her. Theodore Nott sneaks off all the time and no one ever finds him, so why should anyone find her? She needs to be outside right now; the spring night is unusually warm and she needs the fresh air to clear her head.

Everyone else in Hogwarts is sleeping – with the exception of a handful of prefects and that beastly caretaker and maybe one of the professors, but they don't count. Everyone who matters to Pansy is asleep, lost in their dreams, while she is sitting here and staring at the moon and the stars.

Draco will be dreaming right now. She knows this for a fact because Draco always sleeps straight through the night. She wonders whether he is dreaming of her. She hopes so; she always dreams of him, even when she is awake.


	22. Pleased

XXII. Pleased

"Umm, Blaise, I need to borrow a quill. Do you have a spare one?"

Pansy looks up from her work to see Daphne standing next to Blaise Zabini, who is sitting on the table next to her. She can see the blush on Daphne's cheeks and stores it away with a grin. This may come in useful – but what hope does Daphne have of getting Blaise to notice her?

"Sure, I've always got spares," Blaise says cheerfully, pulling a quill out of his bag and handing it to Daphne, who turns as their hands touch.

Daphne smiles. "Thanks, Blaise." With that she scoots off to the other side of the common room.

Pansy glances over at Blaise, not bothering to hide the smirk on her face.

"What is it?" Blaise sighs.

"Daphne likes you," Pansy replies with a cat-like purr.

Blaise rolls his eyes. He has evidently been hanging around Davis and Nott too much. "Sure, Pansy. Stop trying to play matchmaker; it's boring."

"I'm not trying to play matchmaker! Didn't you notice that she was blushing?" Pansy asks, exasperated.

"Probably just wearing too much blusher," Blaise says with a shrug, chewing the end of his quill.

Pansy shakes her head in disbelief. "You really are impossible, Zabini."

It dawns on her how lucky she is to have someone so wonderful as Draco. She, unlike Daphne, will never have to resort to chasing an idiot like Blaise Zabini.


	23. Offend

XXIII. Offend

"Parkinson, are you really as stupid as you make yourself out to be?"

Pansy feels her temper flair upon hearing Tracey's impertinent question. How dare the half-blood ask her something like that? Then again, she tells herself, how can she possibly expect Davis to have decent manners when she has muggle blood impairing her ability to think?

"What do you want?"

"Just wondering whether you're actually as much of a fool as you seem," Tracey replies with a shrug. "I mean only an imbecile would ever follow Malfoy around like a sick puppy – which, by the way, is exactly what you do. You're like a dog that's abused by its owner but just goes back anyway out of stupid loyalty."

Pansy doesn't think she has ever been so offended in her life.

"Draco does not abuse me!" she shouts. "He loves me, not that someone like _you _would be capable of understanding that."

"No, of course he doesn't," Tracey spits out with a sigh. "You know I feel really sorry for you, Parkinson. You shouldn't have been a Slytherin; life in this pit of snakes is tearing you apart."


	24. Provide

XXIV. Provide

Her father's face is a perfect picture of fury.

"I don't like that Malfoy boy," he growls out, obviously displeased with the news that his daughter has been involved with the Malfoy heir for almost a year without his knowledge. "I don't like him at all."

Pansy can't think of any reason why her father would dislike Draco. Draco is handsome and caring and rich: in short everything she would ever need in a man.

"But he's a perfect match, father," she protests. "He'll provide me with everything!"

He considers this for a moment. The next words slip out of her mouth before she can stop them.

"And I love him, father. I love him."

Presently her father looks disgusted.

"Marriage isn't about love, Pansy you stupid girl. It never has been."


	25. Flying

XXV. Flying

"Where are we going?"

"Hush, Pansy. You'll find out in a second."

Draco is beaming as he leads her towards the Forbidden Forest. Her heart is pounding as they silently race along. She knows they won't get in trouble if they're caught out there (they're prefects after all) but there's something so thrilling about being out with Draco, all alone expect for the Moon and the stars and the chill autumn wind.

They draw to a halt and Pansy wonders why; there is nothing important in sight.

"Accio," Draco hisses. A moment later his broom is resting in his hands. "I had one of the house elves hide it away for me," he explains. "I didn't want to spoil the surprise."

There's the unspoken thought that they would certainly have got into a lot of trouble had they been found outside at night with the obvious intention of going flying. There still is that risk, but right now Pansy doesn't care to think of it.

"How about a midnight flight?" Draco says with a grin, jumping onto the broom.

Pansy clambers on behind him, trying not to shriek as she almost manages to fall off. He laughs and they start to climb high into the sky. She hangs onto his waist, her fingers clutching at his robes and possibly leaving bruises on his skin, but he shows no sign of having noticed that. She buries her face in his shoulder as they fly steadily upwards, but then they stop ascending and she dares to look up.

She is alone with Draco – all alone and far above the Earth with only the Moon and the stars and the chill autumn wind for company. If she listens hard enough she can hear his heart beating. The night is still.


	26. Necessary

XXVI. Necessary

Pansy is not in a very good mood. Draco has gone off without her – snuck off to Hogsmeade with Blaise Zabini in order to get extremely drunk down the Hog's Head. She doesn't mind the fact that he's gone out, but couldn't he at least have taken her with him? She doesn't want to think about what the hussies that frequent the Hog's Head would do to her beautiful Draco when she's not there, she really doesn't.

She lets out a scream of frustration, causing a very annoyed Tracey Davis to glare at her. Daphne and Millicent are both asleep, but Tracey is still awake – reading again. The girl has no life.

"Will you kindly shut up, Parkinson," Tracey snaps at her. "I'm trying to work and everyone else is attempting to sleep."

"Shut up, Davis."

"I didn't say anything," Tracey replies. "I was just trying to get you to stop pining about the fact that your pet isn't here. You should realise that it isn't necessary for you to be hanging off his arm all the time."

"You're just jealous because no man will ever pay a bit of attention to any ugly little girl like you," Pansy sneers. Tracey Davis, with her hair and eyes the colour of dishwater, never has a chance of attracting a man who's a patch on Draco, not a chance. "Goodnight."

Tracey Davis rolls her eyes and turns her attention back to her book.


	27. Increase

XXVII. Increase

They are sitting in the common room. Pansy has her head resting in Draco's lap, but she can't help but flinch when he starts to stroke her hair. He hasn't been paying her any attention whatsoever recently, but he's acting as though nothing has gone wrong in their relationship.

"What is it, Pansy?" he sighs, obviously annoyed.

She bites her lip and stares at the floor then sits up to face him.

"Why do you keep ignoring me?"

"I haven't been ignoring you." He looks more than a little offended by the suggestion.

"But we spend so little time together!"

"We're together now."

"Yes, but…" she falters. "It's just that you seem to spend all your time perfecting or working or patrolling with the Inquisitorial Squad or playing Quidditch. You never want to spend time with me."

"I'm spending time with you now, aren't I?" he snaps. "I'm just busy, that's all. You know I'm busy and even though I _always _make time for you, all you do is complain! I'd try and increase the amount of time we spend together if I could, but you know very well that I can't. Can't you just be happy with what we have?"

Pansy knows very well that she should be happy, but how could she be when she almost never gets to see him? She knows it's not his fault, she knows she should be grateful, but she just wants to be closer to him. Why doesn't he seem pleased about that?


	28. Waffle

XXVIII. Waffle

"Draco's waffling again," Daphne mutters to Pansy out of the corner of her mouth.

Pansy shushes her sharply and turns back to what Draco is saying. She doesn't think he's waffling at all. She thinks Daphne is just jealous that none of them have a hope of ever becoming so eloquent as Draco. He is telling them all about what a fine example of a Slytherin Professor Umbridge is – which is right, of course, but no one else seems to really realise it, and no one could ever put it so well as her Draco. That's why everyone is listening attentively to his every word: well, except for Daphne, who is just jealous, and the ever-annoying Theodore Nott and Tracey Davis. This doesn't surprise her at all; Nott never deigns to listen to anyone with a modicum of sense because he's as mad as his father, and Davis is a half-blood and therefore doesn't know sense when she sees it. That must be why Davis is laughing – yes, she is; that girl has the audacity to laugh at her Draco!

"You're a bloody idiot, Malfoy," Davis sneers. Draco spins around to face her, his eyes flashing with righteous indignation. Pansy feels furious for him and shoots Davis the most acidic look she can muster whilst surreptitiously elbowing Daphne in the ribs to stop her giggling at the situation. Daphne is supposed to be Draco's friend, not Davis', so why is she laughing at the half-blood's mindless insult?

"You can talk, Davis," Draco sneers. Usually that's enough to get people to shut up and realise Draco is right (because, of course, he always _is _right, no matter what other people say), but Davis obviously doesn't know her place.

"Well done for noticing that I can talk," Davis drawls. Pansy notices that even Nott is looking at her in exasperation; evidently he's not as mad as his father because he obviously has enough sense to know that Draco is right. "And do you really not realise how much of a prat you are?"

Pansy feels her blood starting to boil. How dare Davis insult her Draco? How dare she! She opens her mouth to say something but Draco beats her to it.

"And what gives you the right to say anything like that to be, you jumped up little mudblood?" Draco snarls. "I'll report you to Umbridge."

"Just because her mother's a muggle and her father was a Hufflepuff, that doesn't make her a mudblood," Daphne mutters. "The Davis family is mostly perfectly respectable and pureblooded - Tracey's muggle mother being the obvious exception." Draco sensibly ignores her and Pansy follows his lead.

Davis rolls her eyes then, a horribly muggleish expression that earns her a filthy look from even Nott.

"Umbridge is the reason you're sounding like a doxy's eating your brains, actually. You keep going on about how brilliant an example of a Slytherin she is," Davis drawls. Pansy growls. Who does this jumped up little halfblood think she is? Maybe Draco's right and she really _is _a mudblood; she doesn't _look _like a Davis, and she certainly doesn't have a pureblood's manners, so it would explain a lot.

"So? She is," Draco retorts. He knows he's right so he doesn't have to waste his breath on unnecessary words.

Davis starts to snigger. Nott looks highly embarrassed by this show of emotion and seems to be wishing, like Pansy, that he could teach her proper manners. Her behaviour just isn't befitting of a Slytherin.

"Except for the fact that she never was a Slytherin. Dolores Umbridge was a Hufflepuff. She was in school with my grandfather."

Draco mumbles something about filthy half-breeds and Hufflepuff duffers. Pansy agrees entirely. Who does Tracey Davis think she is, trying to correct Draco with such rubbish? Dolores Umbridge in Hufflepuff indeed!

"She's right, you know," Daphne yawns. "Do you mean to say that _none_ of the rest of you actually knew that?"

"Shut up, Greengrass," Draco snarls. For once Pansy agrees with him; who does Daphne think she is to agree with a half-blood rather than Draco? Everyone with any sense at all knows that Draco is always right.


	29. Known

XXIX. Known

Pansy doesn't believe her father when he tells her about it. She still doesn't quite believe him even when he throws the morning's newspaper at her in a fury and the truth is staring at her in accusing, severe black and white.

Lucius Malfoy is a convicted Death Eater. He has been sentenced to an indeterminate length of time in prison for his involvement in recent events at the Ministry of Magic. What they don't say is that he's also being punished for his involvement in the last war, which the Ministry was too blind to figure out at the time.

That's when it really hits her; Draco's family is in ruins. She knows he can't have known about this. He always said his family was powerful, but never that his father had been the Dark Lord's servant.

"I've always said I didn't like that Malfoy boy," her father mutters in disgust.


	30. Blind

XXX. Blind

Pansy doesn't quite understand what's going on. They had been walking to Herbology when Daphne had grabbed hold of her arm and dragged her into the bathroom, the one that no one ever uses because of the pitiful ghost that haunts it. Pansy had thought that they were going to skive the lesson (both she and Daphne cannot stand Herbology, not least because of the patronising air that Sprout adopts around them), but then Daphne had roughly shoved her up against the wall, fury in her eyes.

Fury fills Daphne's eyes. They have become so green that they momentarily remind Pansy of the colour of the killing curse. She shivers.

"Do you even understand what you're doing, Pansy?" Daphne snarls, still not letting go of her grip of Pansy's shoulders.

Pansy wants to look away but knows she can't, so instead she fixes Daphne with the coldest glare possible.

"Have you been possessed by a Fury, Daphne?" she laughs.

This only serves to make Daphne's expression grow even more furious, and Pansy fears for a moment that her jesting comment may prove to be correct.

"You're blind, aren't you?" Daphne whispers. Pansy knows this isn't a good sign; most people scream and shout when they're angry, but Daphne goes very, very quiet. She has the kind of cold anger that's the hardest to predict – or avoid.

"No."

"You are! You're still clinging on to Draco like someone's placed a sticking charm on you," Daphne says. "The boy's father is a convicted Death Eater. Don't you know what it's doing to your image, being seen with him like this all the time?"

Pansy sticks her nose up in the air defiantly and slips out from Daphne's grasp. "Well then maybe the Death Eaters have the right idea."

"The Death Eaters killed members of my family, Pansy," Daphne whispers. "Do you still think they 'have the right idea'?"

Pansy feels her blood run cold. She wishes she could take those words back, but she knows she never can.


	31. Something

XXXI. Something

Something is wrong with Draco. Pansy has known him long enough to be able to see that. He hides his emotions under laughter that's louder than usual, but she sees him stumbling into the common room at two in the morning with jet black circles under his eyes and an unsteady gait, which shows that he's probably been down the Hog's Head, trying to drown his worries in firewhisky. He never sees her when he's like this.

It hurts her to have to see him like this, and it hurts even more when she finds out that he has been crying to that miserable ghost girl about it. She finds it painful that he can trust his secrets to a ghost who haunts a girl's toilet but won't so much as open his mouth around her. In fact she finds it almost offensive.

Something is wrong with Draco. He refuses to let her know what it is, and this is almost enough to break Pansy's heart. If he won't trust her with the things that hurt him most then he obviously doesn't love her at all.


	32. Cry

XXXIII. Cry

"Come on, Pansy. What's wrong?" Daphne asks, sitting down on Pansy's bed next to her. Pansy is curled up in a ball, hugging her knees to her chest, a very dark look on her face.

"I don't want to talk about it," Pansy mumbles into her knees as tears drip down her face. She doesn't bother to look up at Daphne. She doesn't want to talk to anyone right now. Things are just too bad to talk about. She knows that Draco is doing something important for the Dark Lord, but that isn't any reason for him to completely ignore her, is it? So she obviously must have done something wrong. She hates herself for that, and she hates herself even more for not knowing what she's done to offend him.

Daphne sighs. "Alright. Just wallow in your misery then." She pauses for a moment. "It's Draco, isn't it?"

Pansy looks up at her sharply. "How did you know?"

"Because he's a git," Daphne replies, rolling her eyes.

"He is not!" Pansy shouts, her fury getting the better of her. Who does Daphne think she is to go insulting her Draco like that?

"He is if he continually upsets you like this," Daphne snaps, looking just as furious as Pansy feels. "I don't see why you don't just get rid of him."

"Because I love him!" Pansy shrieks, jumping to her feet. Isn't it obvious? Daphne knows she's in love with Draco: she's known for years, so what's she doing asking such a stupid question? "Just because you don't like him does not mean I have to break up with him."

She storms out of the room, leaving an exasperated Daphne behind her.

"I'm only trying to help you, Pansy you idiot," Daphne yells.

Pansy doesn't know whether Daphne meant for her to hear that last statement, but she does. It only makes her cry even harder.


	33. Melodrama

XXXIII. Melodrama

They have been arguing again, and this time Pansy is perfectly willing to admit that it's Draco's fault, not her own. All she did was ask him where he's been disappearing off to all the time, and instead of answering her question in a civilised manner like she'd expected him to, he'd flown off the handle in an uncontrollable rage before storming off again.

She still doesn't know where he's gone, and no matter how annoyed she is at him, she can't help but worry. She remembers a time a few years ago, back when she and Draco had first got together, when Blaise Zabini had noticed her worrying and made a comment about Draco having run off with someone else. It was just a stupid comment he had made, and it was years ago now, and it was Blaise of all people, so she doesn't quite understand why she's worrying. In fact it's only come to mind at all because Blaise is sitting just across from her with a bored smirk on his face.

Blaise doesn't seem to have any concept of time. Recently he's become worse than Draco, whose been disappearing to goodness only knows where. In fact he's become even worse than Theodore Nott, who Pansy would almost swear was part vampire if she didn't know exactly whom he was related to. Neither the Notts nor the Parkinsons have ever had a _vampire _in their bloodline, thank you very much.

She's not so sure about whether the Zabinis have vampire blood though. With the exception of his dark skin, Blaise's sharp, almost pretty features coupled with the slightly protruding canine on the left side of his mouth, which always sticks out over his lip slightly when he laughs, give him a distinctly vampire-like look.

He looks straight at her and she jumps when he moves, half-walking, half-gliding across the room before throwing himself into the seat beside her, that stupid, vampire-like grin on his face.

Pansy wants to put a spell on that blasted tooth of his, change it so she can't see it even when he's smiling with his mouth closed. It's disconcerting and just adds to the impression she's getting that he wants to eat her.

"Boyfriend buggered off in a huff again?" Blaise says. It's not a question. "You shouldn't rely on Draco for anything, you know – except for getting drunk off half a glass' worth of firewhisky, but I guess I oughtn't have told you that."

"Shut up, Zabini."

"Oh, trust you to enjoy melodrama," Blaise laughs, looking rather disgusted at her.

Pansy feels absolutely infuriated. She's upset enough as it is, yet for some reason Blaise seems to delight in making her even more miserable. What has she ever done to him? Nothing, that's what. She's done absolutely nothing yet he still acts like an incorrigible little brat.

"You're one to talk, Zabini!" she growls, briefly aware of her father's voice in the back of her mind, chastising her for snarling like that. It isn't befitting of someone of her station. "You attract more stupid melodrama than anyone else in the school!" She doesn't need to elaborate; the number of people she's seen sobbing in the hallways after having their hearts broken by Blaise is more than testimony to that.

"The difference, Pansy, is that I never take things seriously. You, on the other hand…"

He laughs, then reaches out suddenly, tracing a finger across her lips and peering at her as though she is a rather interesting piece of artwork. It is a look she has seen him adopt many times, but it has never been directed at her before, which is she is too stunned to flinch away from him. She notices that his eyes aren't brown like she had thought; they are a strange, dark yellow, rather like a cat's.

He smiles, the expression slightly predatory, slightly feral and more than enough to make Pansy turn scarlet. She doesn't know why; this is just Blaise, and Blaise is a first class prat. All he has done is smile at her, so why is she blushing like a lovesick child? Why? It doesn't make sense.

"Good luck waiting for all the drama to restart," Blaise drawls. "But trust me – there's no chance that Draco is going to be back tonight."


	34. Snapshot

XXXIV. Snapshot

Pansy finds the photograph down the back of her wardrobe. She doesn't know how it got down there, but when she sees it she smiles. It's a photograph of her and Draco, sitting under one of the willow trees by the Black Lake in the brilliant sunshine. He picks up a handful of leaves and tosses them in the air. She laughs.

The little snapshot was taken just after they got together. She has been with him for over two years now. Two years, four months and nine days.

Back then it was the tail-end of September, the warmth slowly disappearing from the sun's rays as the winter quickly set in. Back then, bathing in the warmth and the sunlight, Draco was carefree and happy. Now it is the middle of winter and she hasn't seen Draco smile in what seems like forever.

Pansy wishes they could go back to that time again. Her smile disappears.


	35. Man

XXXV. Man

"Draco's such a wonderful man, isn't he?" Pansy sighs. "He's faithful to everything – to me, to himself, to the Dark Lord."

Daphne looks disgusted and bored to tears. Pansy is thoroughly put out when she notices this.

"What are you looking at me like that for?" she snaps.

"You're being an idiot," Daphne replies coldly. Pansy feels her temper rise.

"I am not!"

"Yes you are," Daphne says back, her tone as calm but exasperated as ever. "You keep saying that Draco's a 'wonderful man'."

"But he _is_."

"No he's not" Daphne snaps, her temper fraying now. "I've had enough of your stupid whining about him."

"You're the stupid one for saying that," Pansy retorts.

"You really are that blind then." Daphne is shaking her head now. Pansy can hardly hear what she's saying, which is a sure sign that she's struggling to control her temper. "He's not a man, Pansy. He's still a stupid little boy. And you're still a stupid little girl!"

"You're the stupid one," Pansy repeats. She is sulking at can't think of anything wittier to say.

"You're such a child!" Daphne shrieks. Her green eyes are blazing with a fury that Pansy has seen many times, but never before has Daphne's anger been directed at her. "You're a complete and utter child. I'm just trying to keep you from getting hurt, and all you're doing is throwing it back in my face. If you won't listen to anyone other than Draco then maybe you deserve what you get – because I tell you it won't be pretty. Now sit here and play around in your stupid fantasy world. I'm not talking to you again until you've grown up."

Daphne leaves the room. The hangings of Millicent Bulstrode's bed catch fire as she passes. Pansy hurries to put the flames out, then collapses onto the floor, feeling suddenly exhausted. She doesn't really understand what's made Daphne so angry, but she never wants her friend's rage to be directed at her again.


	36. Jarring

XXXVI. Jarring

Blaise Zabini is laughing again. The sound is jarring to Pansy's ears: she flinches slightly and tries to ignore him. How is it that Blaise can laugh at nothing whilst she is sitting there feeling more thoroughly miserable than she ever has before? It just doesn't seem fair.

It is nearly one-o-clock in the morning and they have the common room to themselves again. Pansy has been unable to sleep recently and it appears that Blaise is having the same problem – not, of course, that Blaise Zabini would have anything to lose sleep over, and even if he does it's bound to be something he's brought upon himself.

They're sitting closer together than they were last time. She's curled up in the corner of a settee and he's sprawled out sideways across an armchair directly opposite her, despite the fact that he has the entire room to choose from. No, he just has to sit near her, doesn't he? She's beginning to think that Blaise's life revolves around making other people feel awkward.

He keeps laughing at nothing and all she can think about is what he said to her last time they were together.

"Trust me – there's no chance that Draco is going to be back tonight."

He had whispered it to her, that smug smile on his face, and Pansy had desperately wanted to slap him for his arrogance. How dare he imagine that she would be interested in him?

So why can't she forget about it? Why can't she tear her eyes away from him and ignore his mindless laughter?

"Are you alright, Pansy-flower?"

Blaise has moved again, perching himself on the edge of the sofa. Pansy briefly wonders why he can't just sit down on a chair like a normal person.

"Don't call me that."

"Why ever not?" Blaise asks. "You are a flower. A beautiful, delicate flower."

He's doing it again, smiling like a feral cat – or a vampire. Pansy can't help but wonder yet again whether Blaise has vampire blood in him somewhere.

"Shut up, Zabini."

She expects him to shoot out another taunt, but instead he just laughs again (such a cold, jarring sound) and says, "Fine. You win."

Then he is kissing her, grasping her to him with a fury she couldn't have imagined he'd possess. She knows this shouldn't be happening but she can't bring herself to make him stop. All she can think of is that time, so many years ago now, when Draco had been drinking firewhisky and had kissed her in front of the entire common room. That was the last time she could remember a kiss like that – except this is Blaise, he isn't putting on a show and he isn't drunk. Draco is all formality and ice; Blaise is a slave to the fires of passion.

She gasps for breath, feeling her face burn, hearing her heart beat impossibly loudly in her chest. What has she just done… and why doesn't she feel like she's done anything wrong?

Blaise reaches out and runs a finger across her lips again, just like he did the last time, only this time that alone is enough to make her shiver. There is a wild look in Blaise's eyes now that Pansy has never seen before; she would never have thought such intensity possible.

"Feel like taking up my offer this time, Pansy-flower?" Blaise says with a grin. "Trust me, no one need ever know."

This time she doesn't refuse.


	37. Awkward

XXXVII. Awkward

Pansy has never felt such an awkward atmosphere in her life. What makes it even worse is the fact that no one else seems to have noticed it. Draco had started talking to her again as though nothing had ever gone wrong between them, and just when she thought things couldn't get better, Blaise Zabini of all people had decided to show his face.

She knows that he interrupted their conversation on purpose to make her feel terrible: Draco and Blaise have never spoken more than a handful of words to each other when sober in their entire time at Hogwarts. But Blaise had sat down just as things had begun to feel normal again, and Pansy had almost failed to escape before Draco realised that something was wrong.

Now she's sitting in another corner of the common room, trying to busy herself with her Transfiguration work like she'd claimed she needed to but failing dismally. She can still see Blaise and Draco out of the corner of her eye. Draco is laughing happily while Blaise eyes him with that feline stare. He looks as though he is about to tell Draco any minute now about what happened between them, which would be enough to ruin Pansy's life forever.

"Draco's never going to find out if that's what you're worrying about. Blaise's conquests aren't done to earn him bragging rights."

Theodore Nott has materialised out of the shadows. Pansy jumps, sending a bottle of emerald green ink crashing to the floor. It splatters all over Theodore's shoes, causing him to curl his lip in an expression of pure disgust before removing it with a flick of his wand.

"I hate mess," he mutters, "Though evidently not so much as you hate the mess you've got yourself into now."

Pansy feels the blood rushing to her cheeks. "I haven't got myself into a mess, Nott."

"Liar," Theodore yawns, sitting down in a chair opposite her. He drums his fingers on the table, which causes her to notice that he has hands rather like her own, with long, thin fingers and sharp but brittle nails. She realises that it shouldn't surprise her as much as it does: her father and his mother were first cousins after all, so there are bound to be similarities between them somewhere.

"I'm not lying."

"I know exactly what happened, Parkinson, so there's no point in trying to hide it," Theodore drawls. "You know, even though Blaise appears to be the heir of Casanova, I assure you he isn't."

"Casanova?"

"Venetian muggle aristocrat with a bad case of satyriasis," Theodore replies with a slight grin. "Admittedly Blaise's family tend to come from rather further south than Venice, but there are similarities. Either way you don't need to worry; unlike Casanova, Blaise is far to lazy to write down the story of his life."

At any other time Pansy would probably have laughed, but in the current situation it strikes her as far from funny. Instead of giggling she sneers icily at Theodore, directing at him all of the hatred that Blaise deserves to be on the receiving end of.

"Did Blaise strip you of your passion for life along with everything else?" Theodore says, his voice taking on a slightly musical, taunting tone.

Pansy feels her cheeks begin to burn. He evidently knows exactly what happened between her and Blaise, and she doesn't even want to begin to think how he found out about it. Blaise probably gloated to him, completely contrary to what he has just said. The liar. The liar!

"Shut up, Nott. Just shut up!" she shouts.

It's then that she feels someone's gaze burning into the back of her head and freezes, then turns to see Blaise smirking at her. The cold fire she sees in his vampire-like gaze doesn't leave her alone for weeks.


	38. Roar

XXXVIII. Roar

"Tell me, Pansy darling, when did I ever give you permission to do that?"

Draco is angry again, with good reason. She bites her lip and stares at the floor, not wanting to look him in the eye. How can she face him when she's acted like she has? He's going to get rid of her now and she'll be ruined forever.

"Pansy, I'm waiting for an answer," Draco sighs through gritted teeth. "When did I ever give you permission to go anywhere near Zabini?"

"You didn't," she mutters at last. "But I didn't _do_ anything! I…" It's a lie, but how else is she expected to get out of the situation with her Draco still belonging to her? Zabini was a mistake: a stupid mistake who had somehow seduced her just like he had seduced most of the other girls in the school.

"You may not have done anything, but you certainly considered it," Draco drawls and Pansy feels her heart skip a beat. So he doesn't know all of it. Thank Merlin, thank _Merlin_, he isn't going to leave her…. "You seem to have forgotten something very important. You're mine, do you understand?"

Suddenly she realises that he is right, as always. Zabini was a mistake: a stupid mistake who had seduced her just for the fun of it, who doesn't have feelings for her like Draco does. Whatever she had felt around Zabini was a lie; true love was cold and collected like with Draco, not furious and hectic like things had been with Zabini. Why had she ever been so stupid as to go anywhere near Zabini when she has Draco?

She looks up at him and smiles, safe in the knowledge that her angel is still hers.


	39. Burnt

XXXIX. Burnt

The Dark Mark doesn't scare Pansy. It is hideous, burnt onto the sky like a twisted parody of a constellation, somehow beautiful on the eye despite its macabre form. Sometimes she stares at the sky at night, gazing at the imprint left by the Dark Mark long after it has actually disappeared, looking at the blood red gash it leaves on the clouds, but she always looks away before her father sees her.

Her father says that any civilised person should be horrified at the sight of the Dark Mark, that it's a symbol of all that's wrong with their world. He spits Merlin's name out under his breath in fury and averts his eyes whenever he sees it, saying that he's only glad her mother didn't survive long enough to see war in their world again. Pansy's mother had died of a severe case of Dragon Pox when Pansy was nine (actual Dragon Pox, not like Abraxas Malfoy), had died when the world was at peace. Pansy tries not to think about her, but she knows her father still does and it kills him to remember her.

The Dark Mark doesn't scare Pansy, and she's quite certain it doesn't scare her father either. What it does is strike sadness into their hearts – he for having lost her mother, she because she knows that soon Draco may no longer be hers, not now the Dark Lord is back.


	40. Wear

XL. Wear

Pansy has always adored the gatherings of pureblood society, and especially those balls held at Malfoy Manor. She thinks that Malfoys' ancestral home is quite possibly the most beautiful building she will ever see in her entire life – it is pure white on the inside, most of the rooms being at least partially constructed from blindingly white marble. It is a fitting home for her angel.

Said angel is standing over in a corner, his Death Eater's robes swirling around him like darkness spun into cloth. His hood is down and he wears no mask, but she knows that those are the robes the Death Eaters wear whilst on a mission to cleanse their world. For some reason this doesn't bother Pansy, but she can tell that her father finds it more than a little disconcerting.

Darius Parkinson has been trying his best to mingle with the crowds here. His smile hasn't faltered since they stepped into the hall, not even when his eyes landed on the Dark Lord himself earlier that evening. The sight of the Dark Lord had been enough to make Pansy's stop momentarily; she had expected him to be terrifying, yes, but she had thought that he would at least look human.

Pansy instead focuses her attention on mingling, on ingratiating herself with the people that are now in control of their entire world, the people who will save them from the tyranny that the muggles threaten them with. She knows they won't hurt her (she is Draco's after all), but things seem strange because so many people are missing. The Bones, the Patils, the Macmillans, the Browns: the staples of normal society who would turn up at every ball no matter the occasion – they are all gone.

She turns her attention back to Draco, who looks resplendent in those pitch black robes, and it suddenly strike her that he really is wearing a Death Eater's uniform. It hadn't scared her before because she hadn't honestly understood what it meant, but the angel that is her Draco is a murderer – either already or soon to be. Suddenly she feels terrified.


	41. Descend

XLI. Descend

Draco is crying. It takes Pansy a moment to realise what's happening; this is Draco and he never cries. What reason should an angel ever have to cry?

They all have reasons to cry now though, don't they? This year hasn't been anything like she'd anticipated. They go along with what the Dark Lord says in order to save themselves – because it's better to be alive like they are than to be rash and die needlessly like the Gryffindors seem to want to, isn't it?

Still, this is Draco, her Draco. She's never seen him cry, but she supposes she shouldn't be shocked that he is. Draco is a Death Eater, a real Death Eater, not just a supporter like the rest of them, so he's been bearing the worst of the Dark Lord's displeasures. Every now and then he'll be summoned back home for a few days at the Dark Lord's command, so he sees more of the regime than most.

He's just returned from the Manor, dragging her outside before collapsing into floods of tears. Pansy knows that no one's going to disturb them (they are, after all, Slytherins and thus supposedly favoured), but she still can't understand why Draco is crying when they are in a public place where they might be seen. To be emotional like that is to be weak, and for a Death Eater to be seen to be emotional is to invite horrors no one should have to experience.

"He's going to kill us, Pansy. The Dark Lord is going to kill us all. Mother, Father… all of us."

Draco is crying into Pansy's shoulder, holding onto her as though to let go of her would mean certain death. He looks weaker than she has ever seen him before – in fact she's not even sure that this really is Draco. Her angel has always been shining and beautiful, but this boy next to her is all too human… and yet she can't bring herself to feel hurt by the situation.

Draco Malfoy descends into hysterics. Pansy can't help but smile bitterly; for the first time in her life she feels as though he needs her as much as she needs him.


	42. Celebrating

XLII. Celebrating

She knows something is wrong when he kisses her. Draco never really kisses her when they're completely alone, and not with that much intensity – at least not when they're both still sober.

"What is it?" she asks.

"Do I need a reason to kiss you now, Pansy?" he asks, looking thoroughly put out by her question.

She shrugs. "No. You just seem worried."

He ignores her question, kissing her again instead of answering, more urgently than he ever has before – and this without the need for firewhisky in advance, she thinks derisively, but ignores the thought as soon as it comes into her mind.

She smiles. "What's the celebration, Draco?"

"The fact that we're still alive."


	43. Decide

XLIII. Decide

The potion never lies.

Pansy doesn't know whether to laugh or cry. She can't quite believe that this has happened, but it has. The potion has turned from the dull blue of its normal colour to a pure, blinding white so there's no question about it at all. She can't quite decide whether to feel elated or horrified; either way there's nothing she can do about it now.

The potion never lies.

In around seven months time their child will be born (not just hers, _theirs_, hers and Draco's – it is a part of them both). She knows what other people will say, but she isn't going to heed their advice; she is keeping their child whether there is a war on or not.


	44. Rose

XLIV. Rose

Pansy hasn't told Draco about the baby yet, but she's already decided what they're going to call it. If the baby is a girl then she will be called Rose Narcissa – Rose after her mother, Narcissa after his. She smiles when she remembers something that Draco said to her when they first met all those years ago.

"Why do girls love flowers so much that they name their children after them?"

She still doesn't know the answer.

If the baby is a boy then he will be called Procyon Draco – Draco after his father, Procyon because the name is befitting of a child whose father is descended from the Houses of Malfoy and Black.

Pansy thinks the names are beautiful and she knows that their child will be beautiful as well. She can see the family they will have together in her mind's eye already – pretty little girls and boys with Draco's silver hair and her black eyes, a perfect mix of Malfoy and Parkinson: or with her black hair and Draco's silver eyes, proof that he is a descendant of the House of Black.

She thinks the names are beautiful and she knows that Draco will agree. All she has to do now is work up the courage to tell him.


	45. Claustrophobic

XLV. Claustrophobic

"You can't be serious. We're in the middle of a war!"

This isn't the reaction Pansy had been expecting. She had thought that Draco would kiss her and tell her he loved her and say that it was the most fantastic news he had ever had… not this. He has backed away from her slightly, a look of mingled shock and horror on his features; even she can tell that he's not happy with the situation.

"I don't understand how this could possibly be happening," he chokes out, the words tumbling out of his mouth in a rush. "I mean we used all the necessary spells, so how in Merlin's name can you be pregnant?"

"Spells don't always work," Pansy replies. She feels like she wants to cry because this wasn't how things were meant to happen at all. He's going to be a father, he's going to have an heir – how can he possibly not be pleased with this? "Anyway, there's nothing we can do about it now."

There's a vicious flash in his eyes as though he wants to tell her to get rid of it, but being raised according to strict pureblood principles reminds him that that's not even an option so he doesn't bother to speak. She can see it in his eyes though, can see that he hates what's happening.

"We're in the middle of a _war_," he repeats, more to himself and to the floor than to her. "Pansy I… I'm sorry. I just need some space right now."

He leaves and she starts to cry in earnest. This wasn't how things were meant to happen at all.


	46. Withdrawn

XLVI. Withdrawn

Pansy doesn't think she has ever felt more awkward in her entire life. They fled to Hogsmeade when the battle started (she doesn't think about the fact that they were forced to leave) and now she is stuck sitting in a grimy little pub with a load of people who are making no attempt to hide the fact that they despise her.

Daphne is sitting a little way away from her, her arm round Astoria's shoulder. She is obviously trying to placate her sister, but every word she spoke seems to cause Astoria to become even more worried. Well, Daphne never has been one for comforting people, has she?

Eventually Daphne gets up, leaving her sister curled up in the corner, and comes to sit next to Pansy, whom everyone else has been pointedly ignoring. She doesn't understand why; she has done them all a favour by making sure that they at least won't end up dead. If she hadn't spoken out then it's likely that even the children who are here now would have been left at the Dark Lord's mercy. Stupid Gryffindor heroics.

"You look troubled, Pansy," Daphne drawls. Her tone is icier than Pansy has heard it in years.

"Of course I'm worried."

"Would it have anything to do with the fact that your attempts at getting Potter to hand himself over have just completely ruined the name of Slytherin House?" Daphne sneers. "Because that's what you've done. Now everyone's going to think we're all a load of cowards who were on the wrong side of the war just because you wanted to save your own life."

"It wasn't my life I was thinking of, Daphne," Pansy replies heatedly, drawing her arms around herself. "I just didn't want any more children to die."

Daphne looks confused for a moment, then her eyes widen in shock. She doesn't even bother trying not to look surprised.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"You never asked," Pansy replies. It's the truth. "Just tell me you don't think I'm a coward, Daphne. I know everyone else does, but I don't think I could stand it if you did."

Then she is hugging Daphne and crying, just like Astoria had somehow managed not to do moments before. She can still smell Daphne's sister's perfume on her clothes; pansies mixed in with the scents of blood and sadness and fear.

Let the rest of the world think what it wants; Pansy Parkinson knows that she is not a coward.


	47. Propose

XLVII. Propose

Draco is biting his nails again. He never used to do this; it's just another one of the many nervous habits he's picked up over the course of the war. He never used to show his worries to the world, but now whenever he's nervous he bites his nails and fiddles with his hair and ties the edges of his sleeves into knots.

"Pansy, I've been thinking," he says at last. Even his voice is wavering now and he won't look her in the eyes. Pansy feels her heart slowly breaking – is this it? Is he going to leave her now? Is he really so unhappy with the situation, with her choice, that he's going to walk away and leave her on her own?

"What?"

"We should get married. It wouldn't do for the child to be born out of wedlock."

And that's it. That's all it takes for him to propose to her. It is nothing like she had imagined – there are no choirs of wood nymphs, no romantic evening beforehand, no gradual build up containing the words 'I'll love you forever'.

Pansy Parkinson is already eighteen years old and heavily pregnant when she realises that life might not really be a fairytale.


	48. Vanish

XLVII. Vanish

Draco has vanished. He proposed not even three weeks ago and already he has disappeared, gone, vanished. What makes it even worse is that Pansy knows that he is never coming back.

When she reveals the situation to her father he simply sighs. He can't chastise her too much because at least she is providing an heir to their line – and either way, he can't criticise her because he and her mother were married at sixteen and she is now eighteen. He can't say anything, except, except…

"I always told you I didn't trust that horrible Malfoy boy."

After all these years Pansy can finally understand why.


	49. Lost

XLIX. Lost

Pansy knows that she should be euphoric right now. Her son, Procyon Draco Malfoy, is two months old and she still can't quite believe he exists. His father doesn't seem to want to know that he does exist; Draco has never seen is son. Pansy hasn't seen him since he left her.

She managed to call the boy by his father's surname even though they weren't married because his grandmother was perfectly willing to acknowledge the child's existence. Not like her son. Narcissa Malfoy was perfectly willing to accept any heir to the family line, legitimate or not. Lucius Malfoy hasn't been capable of dealing with much since Azkaban, and Draco… She has given up on Draco now. If he won't even acknowledge his son then maybe Daphne has been right for all these long, painful years. Draco Malfoy isn't a man but a stupid little boy.

Pansy's father and should-have-been-mother-in-law have been completely supportive and she knows she should be thankful, but she can't bring herself to be. Not completely. No one had ever warned her that having a child would be so painful, that even with house elves to help she would be barely scraping three hours of sleep a night most nights. Why had no one ever warned her about that? Why?

Pansy feels totally lost and she knows that there will be no beautiful, blond angel to guide her on her way.


	50. Breakfast

L. Breakfast

Pansy is at breakfast when she first hears the news of Draco's engagement to one Astoria Greengrass – Daphne's pretty, shy younger sister who, by all accounts, had turned into something of a man-eater ever since the war had ended. For once this wasn't Pansy's own mind talking, but rather evidence that she had see with her own two eyes – and heard from Daphne herself. Julius Coldwater, Serenus Nyx, Ezekiel Carrington, Blaise Zabini (though who hadn't been with Blaise, really?), Andreas Devereux – and now Draco Malfoy. It was as though Astoria had been working her way through all the eligible purebloods before finally settling on what she thought was the best of the lot.

Well, let her have him. She couldn't think of anyone else who would want Draco – who would be able to put up with him for more than five minutes without ringing his ferrety little neck. Pansy cursed herself for ever having been stupid enough to have thought she was in love with such a man. Now she was nearly twenty-four years old and perfectly aware that she had been an absolute bloody idiot for wasting her time on Draco Malfoy.

Not that she would ever take it back though; she wouldn't trade her son for anything. Even he heartbreak she had suffered at Draco's hands was worth it for him. Procyon meant everything to her now, everything, and she wouldn't trade him for the world.

"Merlin's beard, Pansy, I am so sorry!"

Pansy starts upon seeing Daphne behind her. She hadn't even been aware that her friend had flooed in. Daphne is holding a scrunched up piece of paper in her hand, her eyes blazing with a fury that Pansy hasn't seen in years.

"I told her not to. I bloody well told her, but you know what Astoria's like. Once she sets her mind on something she'll do anything to get it. I bloody told…"

"Daphne," Pansy finds herself whispering, "Why didn't you tell me?"

Daphne falters. "I'm sorry, Pansy. I didn't know until I saw the papers this morning."

She wavering of her voice is enough to convince Pansy that she's telling the truth, but it's not enough for Pansy to stop herself crying. She doesn't know what's wrong with her; she hasn't lost anything. She knows she hasn't lost anything… so why is she crying over Draco Malfoy again?

"Pansy I'm so sorry," Daphne cries. "I honestly didn't know. If I'd have know I wou…"

Pansy interrupts her before she can say another word. "It's fine. I'm not upset."

Daphne stares at her in absolute disbelief.

"Really, Daphne. I'm fine," she says, wiping those stupid tears off her face with the back of her hand and forcing out a laugh. "No offence to your sister, but who would want to marry a bastard like Draco?"

She doesn't mention her brief engagement to the boy, because that was five years ago when she was naïve and stupid so it doesn't even count. It doesn't even count.

"They're well matched," Daphne mutters. "I assure you, Astoria won't be seeing a single sickle of our family's money now. I'm in charge and seeing as she's married Draco of all people, she'll just have to rely on him from now on. I'm sick of politicking and if she wants to play the pureblood princess then she can do it on her own."

It's a long time since Pansy has heard that many words escape Daphne's mouth at once, and that's how she knows that she's telling the truth. Daphne has lost far more from this arrangement than Pansy has. Pansy hasn't lost anything at all, not really… so why is she still crying?

"Mummy, why are you sad?"

She jumps slightly upon seeing her son. Procyon has materialised behind her, a toy dragon clenched under one arm and a sleepy look in his eyes. He has never been fond of getting up in the mornings, not like most children, so she is surprised to see him downstairs so early in the morning.

"Mummy isn't sad," Pansy replies. "Mummy's just crying because Auntie Daphne just told her something so funny that it made her cry."

Procyon just shrugs, settling down at the breakfast table and looking resigned to the fact that adults really are just weird. He sets his toy dragon on a chair next to him before beginning to pretend to feed it half his breakfast.

Procyon is five years old now and the most beautiful child Pansy has ever seen. She isn't just saying that because he's hers – she just knows that it's true. He has Draco's white hair and her black eyes and a sly grin which reminds her ever so slightly of Daphne. In Pansy's eyes her son is an angel, and as unlike Draco he really is one.

Procyon Draco Malfoy really is an angel, and that is why Pansy refrains from telling him that she's crying because his father is a fool whose broken her heart ten times over. He never needs to know that. He never needs to know anything about his father; she knows that her son's life will be better if neither of them ever see Draco again


End file.
